End of an Era
by twentyonesevenths
Summary: In the future, steam engines have been made illegal, and any steam engines found by authorities are scrapped. On tank engine, Johnny, enters a resistance movement and encounters a very famous old engine . . .   DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THOMAS AND FRIENDS
1. Capture and Rescue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Thomas & Friends**

**Here's an adventure story. I've had the idea for years. I hope it's liked! Reviews welcome!**

* * *

><p><em>Introduction:<em>

_The year is 2047. Many advances have been made in technology, and the world has grown both smaller and larger. Populations are packed into massive metropolises, and the countryside is virtually unpopulated. Global warming was drastically slowed, but there are several large wastelands spanning thousands of miles._

_About 30 years ago, railroads were disappearing rapidly. It looked as though trains would no longer exist._

_However, they had a massive rebound, called the "Railway Renaisance" that led to a more advanced, environmentally friendly steam locomotives. Railroads became the most important transportation systems on Earth. It was the new golden age of steam._

_Then, in 2028, all steam engine production stopped. Steam engines became illegal, and were scrapped by the millions. They were replaced by diesels, who began a new, totalitarian era of railroads._

_Any steam engines that survived were constantly fleeing diesels. It's the end of an era. There is no safe haven for steam any more . . ._

* * *

><p>Johnny's wheels hummed as he rattled down the line. He was going as fast as he could, but he got the feeling that it wouldn't be fast enough.<p>

The diesels were catching up to him. There were two of them. If Johnny didn't get out of the yard and onto the main line soon, they'd have him.

Just then, he swerved sideways. Switches rattled beneath his wheels. He'd made it to the throat! If he could just press on for a little longer, he'd be in the clear. No engine could match Johnny on open track.

Johnny gritted his teeth and forged onwards. He was so close!

Then, his boiler rattled and a thin line of black smoke erupted from his safety valve.

"No, not now," he moaned.

But there was nothing he could do. His wheels started to spin less quickly, and he rolled to a halt with several bangs and cracks.

One of the diesels drew up alongside him. "We got him, Joe!"

The other diesel screeched to a halt and buffered up to him.

"No escape this time, Steamer," said the first diesel. "it's the Auction House for you."

* * *

><p>The diesels pulled Johnny to the auction house - the sorting place for all outdated railway equipment.<p>

The Auction Houses were built many years ago during the Renaissance. They were where newly manufactured engines would be sold to their new owners. After the crash, they were converted into scrap dealerships.

Johnny was lined up with several other tank engines, each as bedraggled as himself. They were each inspected in turn, then given values and sent off to the sales floor.

The inspector looked at Johnny. "0-6-0, branch line work and shunting. Electric-steam experimental . . . hmm . . . probably some complex electronics . . . $60,000."

Johnny was then shunted down to the sales floor. He was left on a platform at the side of the main hall, his wheels locked to the rails so he couldn't move. Soon enough, several scrap dealers arrived and began bidding.

His price was soon up to $80,000. Then, a balding fat man who was smoking a cigar walked towards Johnny and began looking him over.

"$100,000," he told the auctioneer.

The other scrap dealers started to move away. This man apparently had more clout and more money than any of them.

The auctioneer was about to end the sale when a twenty-something year old woman came running over. She didn't look like a scrap dealer. But then, who was she?

"What's the price on this locomotive?" she asked.

"$100,000, if you'd like to raise it," replied the auctioneer.

She blanched. Evidently, she hadn't been expecting as much.

The fat dealer began to laugh as she started to walk away dejectedly.

"Shut up!" yelled Johnny. The dealer scowled.

"Don't talk, or you'll be punished," said the auctioneer.

The woman stopped, and turned around. She muttered something under her breath. Then she walked back over to Johnny.

"I bid 102," she told the auctioneer.

The dealer chuckled. "105."

She glared at him. "110."

"I surprised you've got that much. 115."

"120."

The dealer grumbled something about not being worth it and walked away.

"Sold!" announced the auctioneer. "Would you like a diesel to take him away?"

She smiled. "No thanks. I'll drive him."

* * *

><p>Johnny had never been more relieved than when he saw the Auction House shrink away into the horizon.<p>

"Thanks," he told the woman.

"Always glad to help a steamie. I'm Dulcie, by the way."

"I'm Johnny."

They sped on for several minutes before Johnny thought of something that should've been painfully obvious.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe."


	2. A New Home

They didn't speak again for several hours. Johnny instead decided to look at the landscape. The farther they got from the Auction House, the more lush and fertile the countryside seemed.

The land also got hillier. Eventually, they appeared to moving into a low mountain range. The hills were peppered with trees, the most Johnny had seen in years. A low haze hung over the mountain peaks.

With a start, Johnny realized that the rails beneath him for fresh, without rust! No tracks were that well maintained, except for, he'd heard, a few diesel depots. What was going on here?

The rails drew alongside a lazy river, and split to two tracks. Eventually, they drew into a small station. It was shaded with trees, their leaves red from the soon-coming fall. Johnny had never seen such a beautiful place.

Dulcie braked him to a halt. Then, she blew his whistle thrice in quick succession, paused for a few seconds, then blew twice more.

A whistle rang out in response. A few minutes later, a small grey tank engine, an 0-4-2, arrived from the opposite direction.

Johnny no longer understood anything. Here was a working steam engine in good condition!

"Ho, Dulcie!" called a voice from the cab.

Johnny could see a young man leaning out from the engine's cab. He was about the same age as her, but where she was auburn-haired, he was blond, was taller, and wore glasses. Despite this, it was obvious that they were related.

"Hello, Dylan!" called Dulcie.

"Who's this?" asked the engine, who was apparently a she.

"Found him in an Auction House. Cost me a bundle, but he's electro-steam," replied Dulcie. She jumped down from Johnny's cab and ran to embrace Dylan.

"Excuse me," asked Johnny, who had finally found his voice, "but what the heck is going on here?"

Dulcie laughed. "Welcome to the Smokey Valley Railway."


	3. The Resistance

The tank engine, who was called Marion, explained it as they headed towards the main yard.

"You see, the diesels took over- but it shouldn't be that way. Diesels have their virtues, but so do steam engines, especially with the Renaissance and all the improvements it brought.

"There's something deeper to it than just technology- it's malicious. Someone wants to destroy steam engines for good.

"So we set up this place. It's up in the mountains, and they don't know we're here. We take in steam engines and fix them up. We're the resistance.

"How many engines are here?" asked Johnny.

"Not many- twenty-three. Most of them are spread throughout the system –you know, eggs in one basket- so there are maybe four at the Central, including me. I'm the switcher, and there's Scout, Cedric, and Eagle. You'll meet them soon enough."

"What about Dylan and Dulcie?"

"They're the heart of the operation, with Mr. Capp."

"Who?"

"Mr. Capp! He's the one who set this whole thing up. He's a bit older than the twins, and he masterminds the thing. Dylan's the mechanic, and Dulcie will act as engineer when needed. We've got a few other workers, but it's hard, since we're basically running an illegal operation here."

In due time they reached the roundhouse. It was a small five-stall. The surrounding yards were full of wagons and flatbed loaded with metal.

There were two engines loitering around a water tower.

"Oi! You lot!" shouted Dylan.

They all glanced over at them, then puffed over. One was a grey 2-8-2, and one was a black 4-8-4.

"Where's Eagle?" asked Dulcie.

"Boiler trouble," said the Mikado. "Mark's in the workshop looking him over."

"What?" cried Dylan. "I'd've done it if he'd waited!" He jumped down and sprinted away.

"Who's this? New engine?" asked the Northern.

"Yeah," said Marion. "Name's Johnny."

"Hello," said Johnny shyly.

"I'm Scout," said the Mikado. "This is Cedric."

Just then, a man walked up. He was a few years older than Dulcie, with dark skin and close-cropped dark hair.

"Did you have any money left over at all?" he asked.

"Not really. But he's got spirit. And he's electro-steam."

"If we get him working," muttered the man. He looked to Johnny. "I'm Mark Capp. I run this little line."

"I'll help you guys out in any way possible," Johnny told him.

"That so?" he said. He turned around. "Scout, we've found another engine for tonight."

Scout's eyes widened. "Are you sure? Eagle should be ready by nightfall." Her brow furrowed. "He's only just arrived!"

"Best way to test his mettle. Cedric! Go take Marion and Johnny over to the stock yard and get them ready."

Muttering under his breath, Cedric started off.

"Wait! What's going on tonight?"

Mark grinned. "You'll see."


	4. The Mission

Scout, Cedric, and Johnny were lined up at the station by nightfall. Cedric had an empty flatbed, and Scout was pulling a few covered wagons with an unknown cargo. Johnny was running light.

Mark Capp and Dulcie climbed aboard Scout. Dylan watched from Marion's cab.

"Try not to wreck this place too much!" called Dulcie.

"Please! I've run this place a million times on my own, and you know it. In fact I think that I . . . "

The rest of his statement was drowned out by the noise of the trains as they pulled away.

* * *

><p>The journey down the mountain was faster than the journey up. Soon they were rumbling back down toward the diesel lines.<p>

They slipped past towns and stations under the cover of the darkness. Once or twice, a distant headlight had shone in the distance, and the cavalcade pulled into a siding and held their breaths until the trains were gone.

Scout had explained the plan that afternoon. They were going to intercept a freight train at a junction, and steal the cars. The trucks were full of mechanical supplies bound for a scrap yard. If they succeeded, they would both be helping steamies and foiling the diesels.

At last they approached the junction. Scout and Cedric braked to a halt. From behind them, Johnny could just make out a two-track branch line splitting from the six-track main line.

They waited for a while with bated breath. Then, in the distance, a headlight breached the darkness.

"Right on time," muttered Mark through the radio. He disembarked from the track and placed a small black box (a "torpedo" in the railway lingo) on the track and turned it on. Then he grabbed a red flag and started waving it.

In the very far distance, Johnny could just make out a long train of flatbeds and vans. All he could see of the locomotive was a long, sleek rectangle. This was a passenger engine, the B3, with more speed than strength. It had been rostered onto the train at the last minute. This was part of the reason why Mark had chosen this train.

Then, as the train grew closer, Johnny saw two boxy diesels on either side. They were switchers, with eight coupled wheels. They were R5s, the spiritual descendents of the ubiquitous BR 08. They were big and brawny, and could hold their own in a fight.

Mark cursed softly. "We've got an escort."

"Should we abort the mission?" asked Dulcie from Scout's cab.

"No time. We'll just have to think of something."

* * *

><p>When the train was about a quarter of a mile away, an explosion echoed across the land and smoke rose around the B273's wheels. It had entered the range of the torpedo's radio broadcast, and had activated a warning system and the emergency brakes. Soon the R5s were also shrouded in smoke.<p>

Sparks flew from the locomotives' wheels as they braked to an automatic halt. They came to a halt just before the points, as hoped. Mark waved the red flag until there was no trace of movement. Then he ran up to the B3's cab, where angry shouting could already be heard.

Johnny heard the conversation over the radio. "What the hell is going on?" asked the driver angrily.

"I told you freight trains were no good," muttered the B3.

"The bridge down the line is out. The maintenance crew's working on it, but it won't be ready for a few hours," said Mark.

"Get into position, Cedric," came Dulcie's voice.

Cedric steamed quietly in front of the freight train. The B3's driver was too busy shouting at Mark to notice him.

Scout pulled up behind Cedric. However, she was apparently too loud, as one of the R5s peered around suspiciously.

"Watch it," said Johnny. "They're on to you."

"Is there another train due on this line?" asked the B3's engineer.

Cedric swore. "Just go," said Dulcie.

Everything fell apart after that.

* * *

><p>Mark ran to the back of the B3 and uncoupled the vans. Cedric reversed over the points into the B3. He snorted forward, dragging the protesting diesel behind him.<p>

"It's a steamie!" shouted an R5.

Scout reversed into the train, and started hauling them on the homeward track.

The R5s hurtled forwards towards her.

Cedric jettisoned the B3 and rolled up behind Scout's train, desperately trying to move the heavy trucks and get away from the diesels.

An R5 slammed into Cedric's tender. He winced, but kept puffing. Luckily, the diesel had not been able to couple up to him.

The freight train was gaining speed now, but they would never make it away from the diesels in time.

Johnny gritted his teeth. "Here's to a good first impression," he muttered into the radio.

Blowing his whistle loudly, he darted past the R5s. They caught sight of him and set off in pursuit.

"Second time lucky, I hope?" Johnny said to no one in particular.

He accelerated to his full speed, with the diesels trailing not far behind.

Johnny was doing what he did best: speeding. His followers were having a hard time keeping up with him. Johnny breathed in deep the rushing air. Despite it all, he laughed out loud.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

He hadn't felt this good since- well, since back on the Old Line, with Alice and Fred-

He jerked back to reality. The diesels, he noted, were at least half a mile away. He ducked into a siding and waited. Soon the R5s roared past, without them even noticing him.

Johnny eased back onto the main line and puffed back the way he had come.

The radio, which had been spitting out static for a while, finally came back on line.

"Good show!" said Dulcie cheerily.

"Didn't think we were gonna make it out of that," said Scout.

"Ya done good, kid," said Cedric.

"Maybe we'll keep you," said Mark Capp.

Johnny just smiled as he chugged back to his new home.


	5. The Loner

Things went well after that. Johnny settled into the SVR's main station as a switcher with Marion. They soon become very close friends.

He also befriended Scout, Cedric, and Eagle, and learned more about them.

Scout was an intellectual. She was smart and kind, but could be very caustic. She was medium-freight engine, and often joined the missions.

Cedric was the line's heavy freight and passenger engine. He was good-natured but grumpy. Having lived most of his life in a filthy scrap yard, he could handle conditions the others would have found unendurable.

Eagle was rather vain and prideful, and often prone to bouts of hypochondria. He could be intolerable at times, but he had a good heart. He was the smallest tender engine, a 4-4-2 Atlantic.

Johnny didn't go on any more missions after the first night. "We don't usually take tank engines," explained Scout. "Nothing personal. Tank engines just don't hold up too well on long journeys."

But Johnny was happy. This life had nothing to complain about.

"Are there any other movements like this one?" he asked Marion one evening.

"Not really. You get a few groups of two or three trying to do something, but they're almost always caught. The loners don't know about us, and they probably don't care."

Johnny flushed with embarrassment as he considered that, until recently, he too had been a "loner".

* * *

><p>The next morning Johnny was preparing a train of supplies when Dylan walked up.<p>

"You need to take a coal supply train down the line to Old Gorge."

"I'm on it," said Johnny, and he wheeshed away.

Old Gorge wasn't too far away, but you did have to go through diesel lines part of the way. Johnny set out for the foothills.

He had only gone a few miles when he noticed the deterioration of the rails. He braked to avoid damaging the fragile track. The trucks were being troublesome, and Johnny didn't notice as he passed the red signal.

* * *

><p>He was nearly to the branch line to Old Gorge when he heard the hum of a diesel motor.<p>

"Well, censored," muttered Johnny. He could make out the form of a local freight train rattling down the other line. It wasn't going too fast. Hopefully, Johnny could outrun it.

Then he saw that one of the engines at the front was an R5. And it had seen him.

"Censored, unprintable, removed," swore Johnny. The R5 was on his line. He couldn't push it out of the way, and he couldn't outrun it going backwards with a heavy load.

He wouldn't be taken again. He wouldn't.

The R5 rolled forward. The train's other engine, a GP99, rolled away, looking apprehensive.

"A steamer, is it?" cackled the R5. "What've you got there?"

Johnny slowly started to reverse. He might not be able to get away, but he could try.

"Oh no. You're coming with me," said the R5.

Just then, it rocketed forward and derailed. Something had pushed it, and hard. The impact was so great that it turned nearly ninety degrees before toppling on its side.

The smoke cleared, and a steam engine stood before Johnny.

"Sorry 'bout that," said the engine.

It was an 0-6-0 tank engine like Johnny, but was much older. Its paint had all been worn away, and it was a rich rusty red. Despite this, it looked strong.

"Should've said something, but then I would've lost the element of surprise. You alright?"

"Y-yes," stammered Johnny.

"Good." He cast an appraising eye at the R5. "Doesn't look too badly damaged. He'll survive. Where's the other one?"

The GP99 and its train were long gone.

"Who- who are you?" asked Johnny uncertainly.

The engine smiled. "My name's Thomas."


	6. Legend and Loss

"And then he just left?" asked the tank engine.

"Yup. Just rolled away. Then I just kept on going," replied Johnny.

He was sitting in the yard at Old Gorge. The other engines were perplexed by Johnny's story.

"Odd that a loner would help one of us out," said a tender engine.

"I'm a steamie, he is too. I was in trouble and he helped me out."

"It's still weird," said the tender engine.

"His name's 'Thomas'?" asked the tank engine. "Do you think . . ."

"Don't be silly," said the other. "There's got to be more than one engine named Thomas.

Johnny was confused. "What do you mean?"

"She thinks he's the great Thomas himself," said the tender engine.

"Who's Thomas?"

"The greatest steam engine who ever lived!" exclaimed the tank engine. "He's smart and kind and brave. He worked on the island of Sodor, where steam always has a home, and he was a friend to all."

"He's a bedtime story told to young engines to make them forget about the scrap diesels on the other side of the trucks," said the tender engine dismissively. "And tell me when anyone locates the Island of Sodor."

"He's got six wheels and side tanks! It could be him!" insisted the tank engine.

"You, Johnny, was Thomas a cheeky blue tank engine?" asked the tender engine.

"Well . . . no. He was old. And he looked tired and worn-out."

"There you have it," said the tender engine.

"He was built in 1913! He'd be ancient today!" insisted the tank engine futilely, but Johnny wasn't listening. The yard manager, a nice woman named Jane, had arrived.

"I've radioed HQ to tell them that you're here," she said, "but there's no reply. I'm a bit worried. Could you go check it out?"

"All right," said Johnny. He steamed away uneasily.

* * *

><p>Johnny had an uneventful trip back to the yard. He saw no diesels, or anyone else for that matter.<p>

There was no sign of the enigmatic tank engine named Thomas.

Johnny soon reached the station by the lake. He whistled the password, like Dulcie had done when he'd first arrived.

There was no response.

Worried, Johnny set off towards the yard. He heard nothing. Even the birds were silent in the trees.

He saw a patch of something black on the rails. Diesel oil? Couldn't be.

Now Johnny was really worried. He hurried into the yard.

He saw a scene of desolation in front of him. The shed had been burnt down. Many of the trucks were off the rails. There was no sign of any of the engines, Dylan, Dulcie, or Mark.

The diesels had found them. And now they were gone.


	7. To the Rescue!

Johnny just stood there for a little while. He couldn't believe it. He had found his first true home since the Old Line.

And the diesels had destroyed it.

Johnny weighed his options. If he were smart, he would head back to Old Gorge. They would set up a new HQ and try to find Mark and the others, but it was unlikely that they would find them.

But if he set out alone . . .

Johnny headed back down the mountain towards the diesel line. Odds were that the diesels would take the engines to the Auction House. What would they do to Mark, Dylan, and Dulcie? Johnny hoped he could find them before it was too late.

* * *

><p>Johnny was used to running light without being seen. He made good time towards the Auction House, and only rarely did he have to duck into a siding to avoid a diesel.<p>

However, as he got closer to the Auction House, diesels started appearing more frequently. His progress got slower and slower, but he still had hope that he would find his friends.

Eventually he reached the shunting yards outside the house. He headed for the display tracks. Who should he look for first? Johnny decided to see if he could find Marion. He could blend in more easily with the tank engines.

He positioned himself at the back of the line.

However, he hadn't counted on the fact that his well-maintained paintwork would set him apart from the other rusting tank engines. He would have to move fast.

Johnny peered around, trying to catch any hint of Marion. But he couldn't see her anywhere.

Suddenly, another tank engine was shoved in behind him, and the whole row moved closer to the House.

Johnny tried to move, but he couldn't. He was trapped, just like his friends.

* * *

><p>At last he reached the entrance to the Auction House clerk glanced at him briefly.<p>

"0-6-0, branch line work and shunting. Electric-steam experimental . . . hmm . . . wait, haven't I seen you before?"

He looked Johnny over again. "It IS you! And you're still steaming! GUARDS! We've got a live one!

The prowling diesels started towards him. Desperately, Johnny roared forwards, deeper into the house.

He searched for another way out, but he was soon cornered by the diesels.

Suddenly, a line of heavily loaded scrap cars rocketed across the room. They struck a diesel on the side, sending him toppling over. With a cloud of smoke, Johnny found himself being dragged out of the House, towards fresh air and freedom.

"Jeez, kid, do I always have to rescue you?" came a familiar voice.


	8. Old Stories and War Tales

Night found Johnny and Thomas parked on an old branch many miles from the Auction House. There was an old yard, with a carriage shed that was still standing.

"This is my hideout," said Thomas. "It's got plenty of coal, and the water tower refills every time it rains. No one's been here for years except me."

Johnny was resting inside the shed. He had told Thomas of what had happened to his friends on the way there.

"Now, it made sense to go to the Auction House- that's where they'd normally take any steamies they find. But if they weren't there – hmm . . ."

He paused for thought. "Maybe the diesels want to know more about this so-called 'Resistance'. If that's right, then they'd take 'em to a depot, maybe even the HQ in the Capitol."

Johnny's heart sank. "We can't save them if they're in the Capitol."

Thomas winked. "Have faith – we'll find a way."

* * *

><p>The next morning they set off for the Capitol. It was a fair way away – and the diesels had a day's head start on them.<p>

"I know a train who knows a train," said Thomas. "Once we reach the outskirts, I'll find someone to smuggle us in."

They forged onwards. Days passed. Johnny was adept at hiding from the diesels, but Thomas's skill still amazed him.

One night, as they rested on an old siding, Johnny decided to go out on a limb.

"How long have you been out here?"

Thomas was puzzled. "Just tonight."

"No- I mean, how long has it been since your railway closed?"

Thomas sighed. "Years and years. I never saw it coming. We were famous. But, looking back, my line had been a bastion of steam engines even before the Renaissance. They shut it down first."

Johnny put two and two together. "It's really you, then? You're the Thomas of legend? Island of Sodor? Really Useful Engine?"

Thomas cracked a wry smile. "In a manner of speaking, I suppose. But I'm no longer a cheeky little tank engine. I'm old. My wheels ache, and my boiler moans."

"But- you're the most famous steam engine ever. No one would save you? What about the Museum?"

The Railway Museum, Johnny had heard, was where they kept the great steam engines. He wasn't famous, so they wouldn't take him, but the legends of steam were kept there, well-maintained and happy.

Thomas laughed bitterly. "The Museum? I'm too much of a threat. A rallying point. They shipped me off to a scrap yard as soon as they could. I was lucky to escape. They others might be there," he mused. "Toby and James and the rest. They're probably all rotted away, though."

Johnny thought for a while. "Thomas?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think is behind all this? Why would anyone want to kill all the steam trains?"

Thomas said nothing. After several seconds he said, "I don't know." Johnny suspected Thomas did know but he decided not to push the topic.

They were quiet for a while. At last Johnny broke the silence.

"Were you really a cheeky engine?"

Thomas gave a half smile. "You haven't heard? Well, when I was young, I used to shunt coaches for Gordon the big engine. I once gave him such a fright that he decided to pull me behind his train just to tech me a lesson . . ."

And Thomas talked happily into the night of the adventures he'd had as a young engine.


	9. The Smuggler

Since that night, Thomas and Johnny had gotten along even better than before. Thomas whiled away the journey time by telling Johnny about his adventures or the adventures of his friends. There were a lot of stories! Thomas even mentioned the Skarloey Railway, a so-called "narrow-gauge" railway that he'd seen once while visiting the works. Johnny found it very difficult to wrap his head around the concept of a different width between rails.

Johnny also listened to stories of the evil Diesel, who tried to get Duck thrown out of the yard by lying.

"It just goes to show that diesels have always been cruel and evil," observed Johnny.

"Nononono!" exclaimed Thomas. "Don't get the wrong idea! Diesel was a jerk, and these diesels are jerks too. But not all diesels are bad, and not all steamies are good. Remember Rusty? Or Boco? Or Daisy? There are good diesels, kid, remember that."

* * *

><p>About a week after leaving the Auction House, they finally approached the Capitol. As they got closer, more and more diesels started to appear, and the going got slower.<p>

"What are we gonna do when we get to the city?' asked Johnny.

"I know a guy," said Thomas.

Thomas led Johnny to an older yard, mostly full of rotting coal hoppers, where few diesels worked. There, Thomas stopped at a turntable in front of an old shed.

"Hey, Leo!" called Thomas.

Johnny was surprised. Could a steamie really live this close to the Capitol 10/20?

"Remember what I said earlier," whispered Thomas.

Johnny didn't have a chance to say anything, for, just then, a battered but young-looking freight diesel rattled out of the shed. Johnny started to run away, but the diesel stopped and just glared at him.

"Who're you?" Leo asked in a gruff voice.

"We're looking for passage into the city," said Thomas nonchalantly.

The diesel laughed until he choked. "Two steamers wantin' passage INTO the city? Ha! Ya gotta death wish or summat?"

"I've got oil. High quality," said Thomas.

"I already got oil," said Leo dismissively.

"It's Arab," said Thomas.

Leo whistled. "Arab? That's good oil. The Arabs ain't been shipping since their "Federation" got bombed by China. Where'd ya get it?"

"Places," said Thomas with a straight face.

Leo sighed. "Rations have been tight . . . Bring me twenty car's worth tomorrow at six on the dot. I think I can getcha in."

Johnny choked. "You could fly a plane with that much oil!"

Leo smiled. "And a train's gonna fly in it?"

Johnny scowled, but a glare from Thomas kept him quiet.

Leo continued, "Now, I don't know whys two steamers wanna get into the city, but I can guess there's gonna be trouble down the line."

"Just remember, I didn't say nothin' 'bout getting you out."


End file.
